Scheduled to die, killer says he's better than most on...

1of 2Coy Wayne Wesbrook ﻿is slated to face the death penalty on Wednesday. He devotes his time to religion rather than leaving his cell for recreation.Photo: Brett Coomer, Staff

2of 2Convicted murderer Coy Wayne Wesbrook enters a Harris County courtroom for a hearing on Aug. 13, 1998﻿.﻿ All of his appeals to get off death row have failed.Photo: DONNA CARSON, STR

LIVINGSTON - Coy Wesbrook likes to think of himself as a cut above the average killer.

After 17 years on death row, where he awaits execution for a 1997 Channelview shooting rampage that left five dead, he no longer bothers to leave his solitary-confinement cell for a daily hour of recreation.

"These people here are bad," he said in a recent interview. "I consider myself a little bit better - I never had a criminal record."

Scheduled to die on Wednesday, Wesbrook, 58, devotes his time to studying his Bible, reading religious books and listening to gospel shows on the radio.

"I'm looking forward to it," he said of his seemingly imminent death.

All of Wesbrook's appeals, raising such issues as purported mental retardation and the admissibility of testimony concerning his desire to kill trial witnesses, have come to naught. His lawyer, Don Vernay, said no more appeals are expected. On Monday, the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles rejected 7-0 a Wesbrook petition to commute his death sentence to life in prison.

Wesbrook, known on death row as "Elvis Wayne," an inmate-bestowed nickname inspired by a Presley impersonator in a fast-food ad, is a big man. On his arrival on the row, he weighed almost 300 pounds, and during the interview he snugly filled the bile-colored metal cage that serves as a visiting booth. Normally, a prison spokesman said, Wesbrook is taciturn.

But on this afternoon, the one-time security guard and courier truck driver, wanted to talk. "Don't cut me up," he pleaded, worried that his image might be tarnished in a news report.

'Off-and-on rocky road'

It was love that wrecked his life, Wesbrook said, spinning a tale in which he portrayed himself as an average Joe who, perhaps rashly yet understandably, resolved his relationship woes with a .36-caliber, five-shot, hunting rifle.

"Wesbrook's version of the offense is clearly at odd with the facts," said Lynn Hardaway, chief of the Harris County District Attorney's Post-Conviction Writs Division. "Coy Wesbrook committed a cold, calculated capital murder."

Wesbrook and his wife, Gloria Jean Coons, were married on July 5, 1995, he said. For a few years before the formal nuptials, the couple had cohabited in relative harmony. But soon after their marriage, they embarked on "an off-and-on rocky road" that soon saw the couple separate.

Despite their troubles, Wesbrook said, his wife periodically turned to him for help in securing food or a place to live. And, he said, he always complied.

"I was bewitched," he said. "I wasn't rational. I wasn't being guided by my head."

By November 1997, the couple had divorced, but Wesbrook said he still hoped for reconciliation.

On Nov. 12, a clear night with temperatures in the low 50s, Wesbrook drove his truck to a small Channelview apartment complex where Coons was partying with her friends.

By the time sheriff's deputies arrived at 2 a.m. the next day, Coons, 32, was dead, as were Diana Ruth Money, 43; Antonio Cruz, 35; Anthony Ray Rogers, 41; and Kelly Hazlip, 32. All had been shot at close range with wounds to the head, chest or abdomen, Hardaway said.

According to court documents, Wesbrook - the only surviving witness to what happened that night - told authorities that he found the apartment's occupants had been drinking heavily.

In the prison interview, Wesbrook said the party made him uncomfortable. Still, he said, he consumed four beers in 30 minutes - consumption that left him "buzzed."

"Eventually," a Texas Court of Criminal Appeals summary of trial testimony said, "the subject of conversation in the group turned to that of a sexual nature and culminated with (Wesbrook's) estranged wife walking into her bedroom with Hazlip. After a few minutes, Anthony Rogers joined them."

In a clemency petition to the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles, Vernay asserted that Coons, whom he described as a former prostitute, flashed her breasts at those gathered in the apartment.

Wesbrook said he protested, but those outside the bedroom just said, "Well, you know how she is." Then, he said, one of them threatened to kill him. Wesbrook said he tried to leave, but another man at the gathering grabbed his truck keys.

Wesbrook responded by retrieving his hunting rifle - one of the weapons he routinely carried while working as a courier - and carrying it into the apartment.

Money, he said, lunged at him and threw beer in his face. He said he stumbled and the firearm accidentally discharged, killing the woman.

Then Rogers and Cruz rushed toward him, and he shot them in self-defense. "I was fearing for my life," he explained.

Then, Wesbrook said in the interview, he kicked open the locked bedroom door to find Coons and Hazlip having sex.

He shot them both.

"As I saw her collapse and die, the spell was broken," he said. "I could see her for what she was. I no longer found her attractive."

After the shootings, Wesbrook remained at the scene, where nearby residents heard him say, "I did it. I did it. Let's get this over with."

When deputies arrived, he told them, "My ex-wife. That's who I came here to get."

Alleged poor counsel

In the petition seeking commutation of Wesbrook's sentence, Vernay described his client as having low IQ scores as a child and, as an adult, having difficulty retaining even menial employment.

Wesbrook's behavior during and after the offense were "consistent with an individual losing complete control in the face of a humiliating situation," he wrote.

"Had trial counsel done a proper investigation and followed up on the recommendation for neurological testing, he would have been able to provide the jury with an explanation of Mr. Wesbrook's bizarre behavior in committing the offense," Vernay wrote.

"Although trial counsel retained a psychologist, his complete lack of preparation of her testimony not only properly failed to bring the fact of Mr. Wesbrook's severe neurological deficits before the jury, but allowed the prosecution to twist her testimony to paint Mr. Wesbrook as a sociopath and future danger, rather than a borderline mentally retarded man with no criminal history."

Earlier appeals also ended in failure. In one, the Texas Court of Appeals rejected Wesbrook's argument that he had killed his victims in the "heat of passion."

"The only evidence that indicated this was an act of sudden passion," the court wrote, "was the appellant's testimony in which he stated that while he shot the victims, there was no intent to kill them. The jurors were free to place whatever value they wished upon the appellant's testimony."

Tried to order killings

The mass killing shocked a city many thought inured to violence. But Wesbrook's case took even a stranger turn when a county jail inmate told authorities the killer wanted to hire a hit man to kill his first ex-wife and her common-law husband.

In a subsequent telephone conversation with an undercover officer posing as a hit man, Wesbrook ordered the killings of the couple along with three other individuals, two of whom were scheduled to be prosecution witnesses in the upcoming capital murder trial. Wesbook later rescinded the hit orders, saying he feared his conversation was being recorded by jail personnel.

In his prison interview, Wesbrook expressed remorse.

"I've regretted everything a trillion times," he said. "If I could bring those people back to life, I would."

And, detailing his pre-execution regimen, he asserted that he is "at peace."

Still, he admitted doubts.

"People say that Jesus is everywhere, with you all the time," Wesbrook said. "But I don't think he's here with me. Who knows, when I finally see him, maybe he'll just kick me in the gutter."

Allan Turner, senior general assignments reporter, joined the Houston Chronicle in 1985. He has been assistant suburban editor, assistant state editor and roving state reporter. He previously worked at daily newspapers in Amarillo, Austin and San Antonio.